Yar, It's Driving Me Nuts.

So, I've been quite busy recently and the most unexpected things keep popping into my line of vision. But rest assured that I will give my review of Cupcakes in Chicago and the experience of having my eyebrows waxed.

I've had a veritable U-Boat full of Germans landing on my shores. The good news is that someone put the word out that if they want to facilitate a smooth time in New York, they will bring foreign chocolates to the secretary. Hmm, I wonder who floated that little nugget, or should I say nougat, of information...?

Today on the subway I was standing in front of a seated mother and her young son. The boy was probably six years old. He was quiety reading a chapter book. I saw that he was reading the "Prologue" of his tiny book. The mother had her eyes closed and her hand over her eyes. After reading for about ten minutes the boy shook his Mom's hand and said, "Mommy?" The woman totally snapped at him. It was quick, violent and quiet. She began shaking him, and yelling at him in a whisper if that makes any sense. I tried to look away. I wanted to give this woman the benefit of the doubt. I tried to imagine what could be going on in her life to make her so angry at this well-behaved little boy.

Last night I was talking to my brother on the phone. We hadn't talked since Easter, so we were just kind of shooting the shit. Then after twenety minutes he says, "So did you hear Dad broke up with Sweetie?"

"What?" I asked.

"Dad broke up with Sweetie."

"What? What are you saying?" I could hear "Dad" and "Sweetie" but I was sure I was mishearing the rest.

"Dad broke up with Sweetie," my brother repeated for the third time. This is probably why he doesn't call me more often.

"No he didn't."

"Yes he did."

"No he didn't."

"Yes he did."

"When?"

"Sunday night."

"No, I just talked to him on Sunday night."

"Well it must have happened after you talked to him."

"Where is he staying?"

"In his condo."

"No, see you're wrong. His condo isn't finished yet."

"Fine call him. He'll tell you."

"Okay, I'm going to call him."

"Okay, call him."

"Okay, I've got to go so I can call him."

I called my Dad. He broke up with Sweetie. He is staying in his condo, sleeping on the floor and he sounds very happy. "What the hell is going on here?" I yelled into the phone. I wasn't disappointed that he didn't consult me. After the last break-up, I had my fill of talking him through things and giving him advice which he then promptly ignored. I was surprised that the guy who calls me on the phone so that I can provide an impromptu translation of the label on his bottle of German wine didn't call to mention he broke it off with a woman he'd been seeing for 10 months. He seemed more interested in telling me about his new kitchen cabinets that talking about the relationship. This is progress, I guess.

Gibson has the best suggestion by far (and technically the only suggestion) about how I should celebrate my 50,000th site visit: make my own podcast. Brilliant suggestion. Unfortunately, producing a podcast seems like it requires certain things I don't have. Like equipment. And skills.